Paris, Paris

A client who has become a friend confessed that she had never been to Paris (and it is a sin IMHO) .  Whaaat??? Here we are in Bremen, just an hour plus by air from this magical place, and she hasn't been there???  Whaaat?

Sharon to the rescue.  I'll be your guide, I said.  She said, OK, I'm up for that.  So it was.

It was months in planning since Anja has to work, poor sod, whereas I, semi-sort-of retired, am quite flexible.  So, April in Paris, chestnuts in blossom.  There's a song.....

Leaving Bremen was pretty easy - a 10:30 flight, arriving noonish in Paris, train and metro to the apartment.  The first little error - we got off at the wrong stop and then decided to taxi it to the apartment instead of trudging further.

And then actually getting into the apartment was another hurdle. We're here, we're waiting, where's our host??  We didn't know it, but he was inside, and we were outside… After some twists, we get together, got all the info, though his English was non-existent and our French is poor.

Anja had found the apartment, just a few blocks from Pére Lachaise, and just a few blocks from where Werner and I stayed in 2017.  It was a really nice apartment - full of light and books of all sorts.  Have you noticed the doors are really, really big? Good grief.

We settled in and then were off to Stop One:  Père Lachaise.  No visit to the cemetery will ever top the one with Michelle in 2010, but it is always nice to be there.  We wandered, tried to find some of the iconic graves, found some, but loved the wandering.

That evening, we went to a local bar/café for dinner.  For the record, we had great food everywhere.  E v e r y w h e r e.  Some was a bit more elegant, but it was all so very tasty.
That night it was a charcuterie board, a salad of arugula with fresh, fresh mozzarella and pesto, and a cheese board.  Baguette of course.  And wine.  It was just short of heaven.  And the waiter was an absolute character who matched the surroundings.  The place was full of locals and we felt so much in Paris and not like tourists in the middle of tourists.

Full Day One:  a planned hop on/hop off tour.  After a very French, very fresh breakfast of croissants, cheese, and marmalade -

- we headed to the Louvre to catch the bus.  But first, a view of Notre Dame.

She seems untouched from this view by the horrific fire.  How lovely with the chestnuts.

Anja was overwhelmed by the buildings - first the Hôtel de Ville with its carousel

then the Louvre, the Pyramid, the Place de la Concorde, the crowds, the massive huge bigness of it all.  It is fun to see it all again through another's eyes.

We decided to get off one stop before the Arch de Triomphe and walk a bit of the Champs-Élysèes.  The beggars and tricksters seem to be gone.  We looked in the windows, strolled through the extension of the Galleries Lafayette, marveled at the shoes and bags and displays (and just wanted to warm up - it was a bit chilly outside!!).

Then I saw the FIVE GUYS sign across the street.  Really?? Five Guys in France on this boulevard?  Anja says, What is it? A great hamburger place, I say.  Let's go!  NO!  Yes!! OK.  

So funny.  It is Five Guys.  Same menu, same choices, same deco, same drink dispensers, but no peanuts :-(  What a hoot!! We ordered our stuff and went upstairs and enjoyed.  I would never have done this, but I'm not in Paris for me (well, yes, I am, but you know...).  What Anja wants, Anja gets.

She LOVED it.  And it was really, really good.  In fact, I'd say the fries were better.  Yummy.  Then, time for a potty break.  Oh, oh.  Anja says, Where's my bag??!!??  The answer: Gone.  In German: Scheiße.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent at the police station in the Grand Palais at the end of the Champs-Élysèes.  The best thing we can say is that the police officers were kind and patient and understanding and helpful.  And we were not the only victims that day.  A few before us, a few after us, waiting for the interviews after being victims.  Oh drat.

Bless her, Anja tried to find the sunny side.  She lost her phone, her camera, her bank card and her ID.  But she'd left her passport, driver's license, home and car keys at the apartment. So we didn't have to deal with the embassy to just get back home!! Small favors....

After we got back to the apartment, we decided a bit of comfort was in order, so we went back to the same dear café.  We didn't have the same waiter, but a young man who was so anxious to please and made us feel cared for.  It was good.

The original plan for Day Two was the Marmottan Museum, the Rodin Museum and then other stuff.  But since our tour the day before had been interrupted, we had to visit some monuments.




First, up to Sacre Coeur.  It is impressive, the view heading up.

We walked up and looked around the outside and took in the view but opted to not go in.  The LINE!  There were so many student tour groups.  And as Anja's aunt had told her, not worth the time.  Listen to your Auntie.

Then we walked down and watched a bride and groom being photographed in the cold drizzle.  I hope their marriage is better than the weather that day.

It was time for a cup of coffee and we found the perfect place.  So very local.

But it seems everyone understands English.  And wine.

Back UP the stairs to Montmartre and a little look around the kitschy square where there are so many folks who want to draw your caricature....

...hearts on the fences,

and back to the Arc de Triomphe that we didn't really see the day before.  We went into none of these monuments, but just wandering around the outside was monumentally impressive enough.

We had to make a choice then, because there was not enough time to visit both the Rodin and the Marmottan.  Anja chose the Rodin, I think in part because it was a bit of both inside and outside, canvas and stone.  And the day was nice - why not spend some time in a garden?  And it was special.

We didn't get to enjoy the garden much, however, because it seems there was a street race planned that weekend and a reception in the garden which was covered with tents. Oh well.

Walking by Les Invalides,

and on to the Metro, 

to dinner.  Well, that was special!  The night before we'd made reservations at a good looking place in the neighborhood.  But we are careful ordering, since here and there and everywhere the portions are a bit bigger than our tummies.  One entrée:  Tatin de Navet.  OK - what's Navet? Turns out it's turnip.  A Turnip Tatin?  Well, it was.  Thinly sliced spring turnips, blanched, seasoned, placed in a ramekin with layers of phyllo on top then upended just like a Tarte Tatin.  It was good!

We both had a yearning for beef, so it was a tenderloin of beef on a bed of fresh green peas, smashed, with (maybe?) a hint of mint for the main course.  It was so simply and deliciously done.  Five stars!  We were the first ones there and the last to leave.

Day Last, off to the Eiffel Tower.  We stood on the Trocadero and marveled and took pictures along with the rest of the tourists, and there were plenty.

Closer to the tower itself, I experienced my greatest disappointment of the trip (aside from the stolen bag!).  Not the Tower itself - it is still majestic and beautiful, but there is now a barrier around the whole of the base of the tower!!  Plexiglas between the Trocodero to the Champs de Mars and on the sides a combo of iron and steel.  And l i n e s to get into the area.  More l i n e s to buy tickets to go up the tower.  Oh how I detest the individuals who have made it necessary to create such barriers to the pleasure of our great cities.

We were entertained by the vendors, though. The police are trying to crack down it seems, and the word goes out and the sheets with the neatly placed trinkets are pulled up, put over the shoulder and
G O N E.  But not for long.  The vendors lurk across the street till the cops disappear and then they reappear.  Cat and mouse.

Heading back toward the Ile de la Cité, we checked out the Place de la Concorde

 and had some coffee while walking through the Tuilieries.  What a life!

Along the back of Notre Dame you can see the white cover over the choir and the cranes on either side.  It will look like that for years.

We walked a bit of the Ile St. Louis, found a couple of souvenirs and started to lunch but decided the place had a limited and pricy menu, so we left.  I was getting to the cranky stage of hungry, but then I spied my needlepoint shop and had to stick my head in.  And find a souvenir for myself, of course.

Then, up the street, we found a place in the sun and sheltered from the wind right on St. Germain.  Perfect.  We shared a charcuterie which was the best. 

I ordered Confit de Carnard, Anja, a chicken with pan fried potatoes.  Both were really good, but tooooo much!  Our eyes were bigger than our tummies.  But it was yummy.  

It was a really local place.  When we sat down, there was a strange man in front of us who had one of these big water pistols and kept threatening or actually squirting folks!!!  He finally went away and two other older gentlemen took the table.  After a bit, one of the men spoke to me:  You're an American. Yes, I am.  Did you know there are more people in prison in the US than in Russia?  Yes, actually, I do know that.  In fact, I think we have more than Russia and a couple more countries besides.  Then he said You're not like most Americans.  Really? I notice you modulate your voice.  Yes, I do, I said.  After 25 years here, I know how to not talk so LOUD. Then again, most people who know me would say I just don't talk loud enough! 

Then we all had a fun discussion about music and books and food and whatever.  It is F U N being in Paris and it is not at all unusual to have conversations with random folks.  

Ultimately we just couldn't finish our food, and the waiter was so funny about and fussed at us a bit, but we were sated.  We walked up to visit St. Etienne du Mont, 

walked around the University and the Pantheon, 

and a short walk though the gardens at Palais du Luxembourg. 

It was coolish the whole time, but we were really lucky with the weather!

Then made our way to Ste. Chappelle and our concert.  

The wait was a bit long so there was a chance to chat with the older gentleman in front of us.  Turns out he had worked in many different countries, including Germany.  And where in Germany - Bremen, of course!

Three Bach concertos followed by one Mozart work (which Anja pronounced superfluous and approaching silly - and I had to agree) and a lovely encore of a Bach adagio. 

A last look over the Seine.

And it's over.  Almost - we had to pack.  A note greeting us taped to the outside door - Excuse us please, we're having a party.  So we packed and listened to the party and tried to sleep, and I failed miserably.  I slept not one wink. Zero. Nada. Nichts. Rien.  4 AM came and we did our last minute things and dragged ourselves to the taxi (too early for the Metro). 

Paris shed a few tears at our departure (and cold ones at that!) and before you know it, we're back in Bremen.  

I wonder how long before I'll be back???